Portrayed by: Ryan Gosling
Film: Greta Gerwig’s Barbie
One of the most admirable things about Greta Gerwig’s Barbie is that although it primarily centers around its titular character, Stereotypical Barbie, it gives plenty of other characters massive room to grow. In a short amount of time, it sets up countless stories that can develop into more films, but even if this is all viewers get, it’s enough to tell us a great deal about how the dolls grow and evolve. And apart from Barbie herself, Ryan Gosling’s Ken is the character who shines most exceptionally.
The film starts by telling us that Ken only has a great day when Barbie looks at him, but by the end, Ken is a fully fleshed-out character whose experiences teach him how to stand on his own. The screenplay is structured to almost show Ken through a single light, but the words in between and Gosling’s performances add the development necessary for viewers to see the layers in his role.
He Is KEN and Kenough
Barbie is, first and foremost, a film about existential crises—one after another. It’s about women at the center and our role in the world, but it’s also a stark reminder of how the patriarchy and toxic masculinity affect men, too. This is largely why everything we get with Ken works to show naysayers that feminism is for everybody. It’s always unfortunate when people come out of the movie saying the writing does men dirty when Ken’s character development might be even stronger than Barbie’s.
The vast and (doll)life-changing roller coaster he goes through is no small feat, and it’s there to paint a clear picture about sensitivity, friendships, and what it means to step away and become someone you’re proud of. When we first meet Ken, his self-worth is tied entirely to Barbie. How he operates and everything he cares about comes to life solely through her eyes, but when they leave Barbieland and enter the real world, Ken finds the agency necessary to become.
Initially, he notes that his sole interest in the patriarchy is because of the horses, but the reason he goes so hard into it is because he discovers what it’s like to be his own person. Thus, in the second half of the film, it’s no longer about how Barbie sees him, but it’s about how the other Kens see him, too. It’s about taking back everything he once gave freely to her, and it’s about owning something that can be wholly his.
Does he go about it in all the wrong ways? Well, yes. But that’s entirely the film’s point, which emphasizes human complexities at its absolute finest. In searching for ourselves, people often make mistakes before fully bridging the gap between who they are and who they want to be. In this make-believe world of dolls, Ken’s epiphany goes hand in hand with his choice to stop trying to impress Barbie. At the same time, Ken is a representation of the fact that sometimes, people need guidance. They need someone to tell them what to do because they sincerely believe (maybe programmed in this case) to believe they’re one thing when they’re the polar opposite.
In some weird, twisted way, it reminds me of Fleabag and the Hot Priest when she tells him she just wants someone to tell her what to do. Ken needs to go through one hurdle after another until Barbie helps him realize that he isn’t just beach or strictly designed to, and I quote, “exist in the warmth of her gaze.”
The Liberation in “I’m Just Ken”
“I’m Just Ken” might be yet another cry for help and lyrically focusing on Ken’s lack of Kenergy, but even while it starts focusing on Barbie, it ends with his compass fixed toward himself and the other Kens on the beach. It’s putting all of his emotions out in the open, continuing to wallow, and allowing himself to deal with the feelings even while he doesn’t realize that’s what’s happening to him at that moment.
For a beat, Ken shreds the toxicity again, and he tries to rely on what he can by giving himself a moment of vulnerability to dwell on how he feels without Barbie. In more ways than one, much of Ken’s appeal boils down to the way Ryan Gosling layers him. He’s angry during the start of the performance, then he’s visibly sad, and by the end of it, he’s basking in the moment of the dance, even while it’s supposed to be a tremendous loss for them.
Thus, when it all crumbles for the Kens and the Barbies begin to take over again, the conversation with Stereotypical Barbie brings everything full circle. And here, it’s also a testament to Margot Robbie’s sincerity and the genuine care she has for Ken, even when romantic feelings aren’t involved. She tells him, “You’re not your girlfriend. You’re not your house. You’re not your mink. […] You’re not even beach.” And that’s when it finally clicks in Ken that it’s not Barbie and Ken: It’s Barbie and It’s Ken. He is his own “person,” and he can be enough—er, kenough—as is.
Ken’s growth finally begins at the end of the film because he’s standing on his own two feet, ready to fully find himself out of the confines of toxic masculinity and his self-worth. Ken’s role in Barbie is a crucial reminder of how repressing emotions can break men. It’s proof of the fact that the patriarchy doesn’t exist to uphold a man’s place in society, but it exists to control, diminish, and break anyone who’d dare question the idea of a “macho man.”
By the end, Ken proves that a man can be vulnerable, honest, and brave enough to find himself outside the expectations set up for him. No human can expect anything from another. That’s the essence of humanity and the point of feminism, which emphasizes the importance of equality for men and women.
So much of what we see with Ken is for laughs and entertainment, but it’d be dismissing the characterization entirely not to acknowledge how he represents that innate humanity is something people need to learn by trying new things and exploring the world outside someone else’s gaze. It’s about understanding that expectations often hinder growth instead of fueling it, so in the end, we finally get a bit of hope that he can be enough on his own. And it’s a tremendous kudos to Ryan Gosling, too.